


Daybreak

by Doveheart



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:44:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6454054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doveheart/pseuds/Doveheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven times that Yda, Papalymo and Y'shtola find themselves with a want, a need, to call somewhere home. Seven times that Yda, Papalymo and Y'shtola realize that home has been each other all along. </p>
<p>Fill for the Kink Meme. No smut, sorry, just fluff with a side of angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daybreak

**Author's Note:**

> I uh lost control of this. It was a very good prompt! Lyrics are from Heartlines by Florence and the Machine.

**i. echoes of a city that's long overgrown.**

“Did it hurt?” Yda with bright eyes and an unmarked neck circles Y'shtola like a hawk. It's a flash of purple like a bruise. Her skin is red and irritated around it. Yda is practically shaking with excitement; thirsty for details.

“Let her be, Yda” Papalymo sighs and the skin of his neck still burns and aches. The Sage Mark is fresh and both him and Y'shtola smell like ink.

Y'shtola, though, flashes Yda a smile and reaches out to take her hand, “It was a very special ritual,” she starts and the three of them are walking forward, away from the Library behind them, but not towards their rooms. Their first classes are at dawn and although they have all finished, they still find themselves up early and walking together. There is a comfort in that routine. In each other.

“But did it hurt?!” Yda squeezes Y'shtola's hand, eyes sparkling and she is leading them towards the open, rolling hills outside the Arboretum.

Papalymo is about to open his mouth again but Y'shtola shoots him a look. Her eyes are mischievous and a smirk is at the very corners of her lips.

“It felt,” Y'shtola tightens her grip on Yda's fingers ever so slightly, “Kind of like this.”

There is a shock of magic and Yda yelps. She tumbles down, rolling in the grass and staining her uniform and Y'shtola laughs. Yda's laughing too as soon as the shock wears off and she lunges at Y'shtola playfully. It takes her by surprise and Yda tugs her to the ground. Y'shtola wastes no time, though, reaching out and grabbing Papalymo to bring him down with them. Papalymo yells and the three of them fall into a pile of tangled limbs. He tries to complain but finds the laughter contagious. The noise dies off slowly as they catch their breath, still laying together. A soft wind blows and the grass tickles.

“I get mine tomorrow,” Yda whispers and she can't believe that, even with the horrible lack of any magical skills, she has still done it. She has earned her Sage Mark. She proved everyone wrong.

“We are all very proud,” Papalymo sits up, slightly unraveling himself from the other two. He looks from her, to Y'shtola and they all smile. Yda looks towards the horizon, out across the water and over the mountains. Sharlayan is starting to wake up and it starts to come alive. Yda tugs them closer, her head against Y'shtola's shoulder and Papalymo pulled into her lap. Their legs are intertwined and Y'shtola's tail falls over the three of them. They breathe in sync.

The sun is rising and they think that, perhaps, this is what home feels like.

  
  


**ii. but in order to get to the heart, I think sometimes you have to cut through.**

A fear and panic sets in and the sky is set aflame. Y'shtola clings to both Yda and Papalymo's hands. They are all shaking and the sky is red and bleeding. The world is calling out and Y'shtola can't think — can't breathe. But this is what they had been preparing. This is the dawn of a new era.

“Run,” she whispers and Yda is crying as her shoulders shudder, “ _Run_.” Y'shtola says louder now because they have to go, they have to fix this. Papalymo tugs on Yda and they have to get to Nophica's Altar.

“Be careful!” Yda yells back and she finally lets her fingers pull away from Y'shtola.

“We will stop this!” Y'shtola calls but she hesitates. They step away from each other.

“Of course we will,” Papalymo interjects, strangely optimistic and it makes both of them smile, “But we must hurry!”

Y'shtola nods and turns. They break away from each other and it's a race to get to their assigned Altars. The Calamity had come too fast, too soon but a hope swells in them. The Warrior of Light will fix this, with their help. They can do this. The are Archons. This is what they were trained for.

Yda falls to the ground in front of Nophica's symbol first. Her knees ache from the force of it. Papalymo kneels next to her and then they pray. They pray so hard. Yda rocks back and forth and she is praying to every Twelve as hard as she can. Across Eorzea, Y'shtola does the same. Y'shtola can feel her heart pounding in her chest and her fingers shake. The world around them is falling apart and tears prick at the corners of her eyes. They are all afraid but they don't stop. For their sake, for Eorzea's sake.

It is a blur of chaos after that. An explosion or two. They can't stop praying to open their eyes even when the world around them shakes and shudders. Finally, after hours, the world calms. They feel the light and the heat wash over them even where they are, miles and miles from the battle. And they feel the loss, deep in the pit of their stomach.

They won. But how many had they lost? Yda swallows, sitting down and reaching for Papalymo's hand. They look towards the sky. Y'shtola tries to catch her breath but her whole body is on edge. Eorzea is safe, but will never be the same. There is so much aether in the air that she thinks she may be sick. She looks up to the sky and it's the same sky Yda and Papalymo know look to. Its stained red like blood but beyond that they can see the daybreak.

The sun is rising and they think that, perhaps, their home will never be the same.

  
  


**iii. your heart is the only place that I call home.**

Maybe the wounds are still fresh and burning but when the Circle of Knowing and the Path of the Twelve joined to form the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, it doesn't feel like a place they could belong. They have to focus on rebuilding, of course. Y'shtola knew this but with the broken staff Yda and Papalymo had brought back from the Seed Seer hanging in the back of the room, Y'shtola wasn't sure if she was ready to rebuild.

Y'shtola is so very tired and as she drops her things in the entryway of the Waking Sands, her head aches. She is the last one to move her things in because maybe she thought it would change. She has no where else to go, though, and deep down she knows this is best for Eorzea as a whole. That doesn't stop the pain though. She still misses Louisoix. She spends all day unpacking and helping Papalymo and Urianger organize tomes. They had brought all they had with them, everything they had hung onto when the Sharlayans fled. It isn't much, but it will help. It is a welcomed distraction. Finally, though, the people within the halls disperse and she decides to retire to bed.

Y'shtola, however, is awoken by banging around. She jumps out of bed, heart beating fast. She pulls on her shoes and makes her way to see what the noise is about, magic lighting up the palm of her hand. She finds a woman digging through the kitchen and a very sleepy-looking lalafell with his elbows on the table.

“Yda?” Y'shtola asks, relaxing instantly.

“I told you not to be so noisy!” Papalymo scolds, looking towards Y'shtola in apologizes.

Yda doesn't even turn around, “I'm hungry!” She whines.

Y'shtola chuckles, “I am not sure they have had time to stock these pantries yet but I am sure we can find some food at the Tavern in the Bay.”

Yda perks up and practically does a cartwheel over to Y'shtola. Papalymo hops out of his seat, “Some tea would be good enough for me,” He mumbles. Yda reaches for his hand, and then her other for Y'shtola's. The three of them stroll out of the Waking Sands and into the early morning air. The shops are just starting to open and Yda hums, swinging her arms. Y'shtola hums along with her and Papalymo smiles.

The sun is rising and they think that, perhaps, this will start to feel like home soon.

  
  


**iv. but I know it'll have to drown me before it can breathe easy.**

The darkness and the the silence grip Yda, tug at her and pull her down. She can't breathe and it feels like she is falling. The ground has been ripped out from under her. The stone flooring of the Waking Sands is stained with blood but there are no bodies to be found. She feels the cold floor under her and realizes she has fallen to her hands and knees. Her knuckles are scrapped and blood and her eyes string with tears. She is shaking, sobbing and everything sounds so so far away, even her own voice. Yda is scared and alone. She can't understand how this has happened. Had they gotten too comfortable? Made too many enemies?

Suddenly a strong hand grips her, tugs her out of the darkness that she hadn't realized had been closing in around her until then. Y'shtola pulls her close, tucking Yda's head under her chin and holding her so tightly that it reminds Yda to breathe. Y'shtola is bright against the darkness and Yda inhales her scent desperately. She is not alone but there is still something — someone — missing and it hurts.

“I'm here, Yda,” Y'shtola whispers and Yda clings to her, her hands fisting into the fabric of her shirt. Yda shudders and Y'shtola strokes her back as she cries. It is a few moments before Yda calms.

“W-where's Papalymo?” And Yda already knows the answer. A hatred flares in her and she has a sudden need to spill blood. It surprises even her but she makes no attempt to quell the feeling.

“We're going to get Papalymo back, I promise,” Y'shtola says, but her voice is cool and she, too, is furious. This is too far and too much. They were to be safe and comfortable here and it was taken from them. She grips Yda tightly. The Garleans had went too far. This is a side not many see of Y'shtola but it is a side that comforts Yda at this time.

Yda glances up at the other woman and she is no longer sad, just angry, “Rhalgr give them mercy because I won't,” Yda snarls, her voice low and dangerous. And Y'shtola thinks she, too, is all out of mercy. The Garleans will be reminded what it means to be an Archon.

The sun is rising and they think that, perhaps, their home has been defiled.

  
  


**v. just keep following the heartlines on your hand.**

And it is nightmares again that keep Papalymo awake. His sheets stick to his skin when he jerks awake. He swallows, trying to ease his shaking and then, slowly, he gets out of bed to get dressed. It is early; the sun hasn't even rose yet. Papalymo slips out of the Waking Sands quietly and makes his way to the docks. He has been freed of the Garlean prison for three weeks now but it seems he goes back every night. He sits down heavily onto the wooden planks, watching the way the stars reflect in the water. There are not boats yet and he puts his head in hands and closes his eyes. He had enough trouble sleeping before the Attack and now it is nearly impossible. Every night he is scared of what his dreams would hold.

He jerks when he hears someone sit next to him. Y'shtola smiles at him, placing a kindly hand on his shoulder and he blinks up at her groggily.

“Nightmares?” She asks softly and he has to look away, embarrassed.

“How did you—”

“You aren't very quiet, you know,” It is Yda who speaks next. She picks up a rock and skips it across the water. It disrupts the reflection of the stars, bouncing several times before sinking. Papalymo looks at her and he can't help but smile slightly. He couldn't hide anything from them and perhaps that is a blessing. Yda picks up another rock, examining it closely, but then wedges herself in between Papalymo and Y'shtola on the docks. She hands the rock to Papalymo and lets her feet glide against the water. Papalymo looks down at the rock and then back up at her. It's a dark, rough oval. Not fit for skipping.

“That's your nightmares, your fears. They're dark, jagged and heavy. You have to let go of them,” Yda explains.

And neither Papalymo or Y'shtola knew she could be so insightful. Papalymo stands, his hand gripping the rock so tightly his knuckles turn white. Then, he lets go. He throws the rock and it skips across the water despite everything before disappearing. He feels lighter. Yda pulls him back down. She lays against Y'shtola and Papalymo sits on the docks with Yda curled around them. The three of them put their hands on top of each others, a mess of intertwined fingers that makes Yda laugh but it's okay, everything is okay. The water starts to turn from black to a beautiful red.

The sun is rising and they think that, perhaps, they are home together again.

  
  


**vi. keep it up, I know you can.**

Y'shtola and Papalymo find Yda running from room to run with her hand pressed against the walls — feeling the stone move beneath her fingers. She laughs, joyful and alive.

“It's so much bigger than the Sands! Look at all these rooms!” And her voice echoes around them. She freezes and drops her hand, “Maybe too much room,” she lets her voice trail off. It's empty, she realizes, and cold. A vast change compared to the Waking Sands. She leans in close to the wall, though, to inspect a rock. No bloodstains. That, at least, she is thankful for.

Y'shtola puts a hand on Yda's shoulder and it makes her jump, “We'll fill it up,” she smiles, glancing down at Papalymo.

Papalymo nods, “Aye. We'll find a collection of like minded individuals to help us protect Eorzea.”

Yda shifts slightly and it quiet for few moments but then she smiles, “I hope they all like to spar!”

“As long as you don't scare them off!” Papalymo says. Yda puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head at him.

Y'shtola chuckles, “Come on, you two, I wanna show you something.” Y'shtola shows them out of the Rising Stones and they set off out of Mor Dhona. Yda is talking the whole time about how she wants to decorate her room and how she wants the room right next to the kitchen. Papalymo insists she won't be getting that room and she threatens to move all his furniture two inches to the left.

Y'shtola suddenly stops and Yda nearly runs into her, “We're here,” she says and just ahead of them is the beautiful crystallized tree of the Rathefrost and the Thaliak's stone. It is the first time Yda or Papalymo had seen it since the Calamity. Yda takes a step forward first, her breath caught in her throat.

“Wow,” she gasps and reaches out to the touch the tree. There is an energy here she hadn't felt since Louisoix died. It lets them feel at peace.

Papalymo walks up next to her, his eyes wide, “Its...Amazing.”

Y'shtola smiles and waves them over behind the tree. The ledge overlooks the lake and she sits herself down, feet dangling off the edge. Yda sits down next of her and pulls Papalymo down on her other side. The tree gives up a soft light and seeing the light dance across the dark water with the stars is something to behold. Yda lays down with her head in Y'shtola's lap and her legs across the Papalymo's lap.

There is a silence for a bit and then Yda asks, “How are you gonna decorate your room, 'Shtola?”

The sun is rising and they think that, perhaps, they can make this place home too.  
  


 

**vii. but know, in some way I'm there with you.**

Y'shtola reaches her hands through the bars of the gate Papalymo had shot closed. She shuts her eyes. Both Papalymo and Yda grab her hand. Yda rubs her cheek against her hand and Papalymo grips it tightly.

“Be safe. Please.” Y'shtola whispers before taking a step back.

“We'll buy you time!” Yda calls, turning back around with her weapons drawn.

“Hurry! Find this tunnel of Thancred's,” Papalymo yells with his back now towards the gate.

Minfilia hesitates but Y'shtola grabs her arm softly and leads her away. The rest of the night is a blur of running and fighting and exhaustion but Y'shtola still remembers the feeling of successfully casting a forbidden spell. It was a sense of accomplishment, of fear and of something akin to teenage rebellion. Whatever the case, Y'shtola will never forget the feeling deep in her gut when she enters the Lifestream — alive.

It is a feeling that she shouldn't be there and she knows it. There is nothing, but at the same time there is everything. Her memories and dreams merge together and she can feel herself grow weaker with time. She isn't sure how much time passes and she tries to sleep so that she doesn't have to see the memories of the dead pass around her. When she is awake, however, she finds herself reaching out to Yda and to Papalymo. She doesn't know if they made it out, but she wants to, oh gods, does she want to.

When she first smells the Twelveswood again she almost cannot believe it. She tries to blink but it doesn't clear the darkness. She slowly becomes aware of what has happened. She swallows but there is a feeling, deep in the back of her soul, that Yda and Papalymo are alright. She isn't sure how or where but she feels the heat of the sun and smells the dust of a desert. They are okay and that is enough.

She is thankful that she learns quickly to use the aether around her to see and she is thankful then for all those who saved her but that night, she wishes to be alone. She makes her way to the balcony of her room in the Canopy, hands brushing across the smoothed wood and she looks towards the sky.

Somewhere, where it smells like dust and the desert air is starting to cool, Papalymo takes Yda's hand and they look to the sky. The dawn is starting to bleed into the night sky, erasing the stars but the Dawn's Light is here.

The sun is rising and they know, now, that home isn't a where, but who and they will be together again soon. It is a promise they all feel, deep within, at a level as deep as the aether that runs through them. They will put their home back together and they will stop at nothing to be together again. Everything is okay.

 


End file.
